Medicinal Herbs and Their Uses
by nightgigjo
Summary: A compendium of anecdotes, errata, and lore surrounding various botanicals, both beneficial and detrimental. / A collection of HP-universe drabbles and ficlets for a Herbology OWL in the HPKCHC.
1. Aconitium napellus

It had woken him in the night.

Icy prickles on his forehead and the back of his neck glistened in the moonlight that streamed through his open window, the chill breeze on them wrenching his mind awake, away from the frantic chopping and stirring of his dream, the whirling panic that consumed his sleep far too often these days. There had to be some way of making his brain stop, at least long enough to snatch a few hours of sleep that were free from the anxiety that plagued his waking hours. He was terrified of everything - of not being good enough, of mixing up ingredients, of brewing up a potion that was, at best, ineffective, or at worst, hazardous.

What he'd just dreamt was _murderous_.

Every potions novice knew about aconite. Good for a muscle salve, but under no circumstances was it to be taken internally, nor should it be used if there were any chance of it coming into contact with broken skin. Even having a hangnail could allow that toxic substance to enter a person's bloodstream, resulting in one of the most painful, disorienting deaths one could hope to avoid. He'd gotten his hands on a Muggle monograph on the effects of aconite, and they had attempted all manner of horrible experiments on numerous creatures - even plants - and with very few exceptions, administration of aconite had been eventually - if not immediately - fatal.

And yet, in his dream, he'd been brewing a potion with aconite as the chief ingredient, and had given it to someone. Not only given, but _offered_ \- as though bestowing a great and beneficial gift.

He'd been working on this potion for decades. Every time there was another attack, another young person lost to productive society, reviled by their families, thrown out on the wilderness to scavenge, steal, or starve, he'd try again, with all the herbs of calming and control, even of paralysis and forgetfulness - none of them had worked. Every desperate parent had come to him, begging for something to release their child from the curse, and nothing had worked. But a single sip of his dream-draught couldn't possibly tame the wolf _without_ killing the man.

 _Unless..._

Damocles sat bolt upright in bed, a light in his eyes beyond the glow of the full moon, silver hair swirling wildly around his head as he stood, shrugging on his robe, before striding purposefully down into the cellars, to his lab.


	2. Aloe succotrina

The gate swung shut behind her and disappeared as the spelled latch fell into place, leaving nothing but the shadows gathering around the cairn and under the spindly shrubs to either side. She was out now, a journey begun, an invocation to !Xu on her lips.

From the small pouch at her waist she pulled a stone, rounded and smooth from the riverbed, and laid it reverently atop the cairn. _Luck in a journey,_ she thought, _this will be needed._ She had cast off her brightly patterned wrap in favor of a dark hide robe the same color as her skin, to better mask her passing through the places the foreigners lived. Although she did not fear them, it would not do to be hindered. She closed her eyes briefly, taking in the sounds of the twilight hour, and asked another blessing on her errand.

Opening her eyes again, she surveyed the path. It would be a steep scramble down some of this hill, and the city of the foreigners was most of a day's walk from here. In the deepening dusk she spotted a cluster of bright red flowers, long tubes sprouting on a long shoot from amid the brush. Her mouth widened into a smile, a glimmering crescent in the dark. Luck was already with her.

A few sure-footed paces down to the place, a quick snap of her wrist, and she had her prize: a thick, fleshy stalk of heal-leaf, half again as long as her hand. Carefully, she covered the broken end with a scrap of hide, and tucked the bundle safely in her pouch. Standing straight and tall, she squared her shoulders against the night and the long miles ahead, and made her way towards the place the foreigners called _Kaapstad._

* * *

 **A/N:** This may eventually be expanded. It was what came out of my mind with 'aloe', specifically _Aloe succotrina_ or Fynbos aloe, which is native to the Fynbos biome, a small yet highly diverse area surrounding the Cape in South Africa. It occurred to me that the magical community in that region might not have been secretive about its existence until the intrusions of European peoples, and might have succeeded in protecting some of its people from the various depredations of the colonial era. There is much more to be had here, and I'm not entirely certain when it would be best set, although my first impulse was either in between or immediately before the Boer Wars (late 19th - early 20th c.).


End file.
